The written word is weak. Many people prefer life to it. Life gets your blood going, & it smells good. Writing is mere writing, literature is mere. It appeals only to the subtlest senses-the imagination's vision, & the imagination's hearing-& the moral sense, & the intellect. This writing that you do, that so thrills you, that so rocks & exhilarates you, as if you were dancing next to the band, is barely audible to anyone else.
In "The Writing Life," Annie Dillard emphasizes the limitations of written expression compared to the richness of real life. She suggests that while literature engages our imagination and intellect, it lacks the visceral impact of actual experiences, which captivate our senses more profoundly. The thrill that writing brings to the author may not resonate similarly with others, highlighting the disconnect that often exists between a writer's intentions and the reader's perception.
Dillard's perspective reflects a broader truth about the nature of art and communication; written words can only evoke subtle emotions and thoughts, falling short of the vivacity that life itself offers. While writing can transport us and inspire deep engagement, it remains an abstract representation, far less tangible and immediate than the vitality of living encounters. Ultimately, she suggests that while writing can be exhilarating to the writer, it is a fragile medium that may not fully capture the essence of experience.
